


Insanity

by nagi_schwarz



Series: The Oppenheimer Effect [74]
Category: Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1
Genre: Homophobia, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-24
Updated: 2017-03-24
Packaged: 2018-10-10 02:17:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10426956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagi_schwarz/pseuds/nagi_schwarz
Summary: Written for the comment_fic prompt: "Stargate Multiverse, Any,Let me go homeWhy don't they let me go homeThis is the worst trip I've ever been on(The Beach Boys)"JD deals with insanity in the aftermath of the attack.





	

Most of what JD knew about criminal justice he’d learned from the occasional police procedural that Brenda tricked Tyler into watching, but he was pretty sure that handcuffing him to a hospital bed and interrogating him while one of the other people involved in the incident in question were nearby and could hear was a serious breach of protocol.

JD had had procedure drilled into him back when he was a brand new officer - name, rank, serial number. Invoke your right to silence. Invoke your right to an attorney. Wait for your JAG officer to show.

JD was no longer a military officer. But he could still have a JAG officer.

He desperately wanted to know how Cam was doing, if Tyler was okay, where Evan was.

Two uniformed officers and a detective were looming over him, firing questions at him.

“What’s your name?”

“Jonathan Daniel Nealson.”

The detective was scribbling notes in a little notebook. “Birthday?”

JD forced himself to take a deep breath. He still always wanted to list his original birthday. “June 20, 1988.”

“Address?”

The address for Casa Atlantica tripped off his tongue. “My driver’s license is in my pocket. I'd give it to you, but I’m a little tied up.”

“Tell us what happened JD,” the detective said. He had greying hair, a receding hairline, a paunch at his waist, and his suit needed to be dry-cleaned.

“Tell me what is going on with my family,” JD said. He no longer had a rank and serial number. “I’ll answer your questions as soon as any lawyer is here. I’m invoking my right to an attorney. And I want my damn phone call.”

The detective - Harris - was unmoved. “We’ll tell you about your family as soon as you answer our questions.”

JD rattled his cuffs. His left hand and wrist were in a cast. He had multiple fractures in his metacarpals and metatarsals. “Tyler was just assaulted and watched his father nearly get beaten to death. He witnessed his grandfather’s death and is probably horrifically traumatized. He needs someone with him.”

“So it’s your statement that Cameron Mitchell was the victim in this altercation?”

JD stared. “Are you serious? Of course he’s the victim. He’s paraplegic There was one of him and five of them. Check the footage on the security cams from the gas station.”

From the next hospital bed the punk kid with the broken ribs and dislocated shoulder burst out, “That crippled faggot -”

“Shut the fuck up,” JD snarled.

“Now, son -” Harris began.

“Cameron Mitchell is a father, a teacher, a son and a fucking hero. Google it. He was awarded the Medal of Honor. If not for him and his sacrifice, not a single one of you would be standing here today.” JD curled his good hand into a fist. “Cam fought and nearly died so that piece of shit and his dumbass friends have the right a walk around with their heads up their asses and be bigots.”

The punk kid said, “Hell yeah. America's a free country. I can say what I want. And I say that crippled homo -”

“You have the right to say what you want, but you had no right to strike my son or his father,” JD spat.

“So you’re a fag too?”

“A fag who kicked your ass.”

“See officer? He’s fucking monster. He killed my friends -”

“What the hell is going on here?” Rodney's voice rang out across the entire ER. Heads turned.

A girl in blue scrubs peeked up over Rodney’s shoulder. “Sir, you can’t be back here -”

“Take those handoffs off of him right now, or so help me -” Rodney crossed the linoleum floor in a few quick strides. John, Major Cartwright, and none other than Richard Woolsey were on his heels. Major Cartwright was in full dress blues. Woolsey’s suit was impeccably pressed.

Woolsey put a hand on Rodney’s arm. “Now, Doctor McKay, let me handle this.” He turned to Detective Harris, wearing one of his deceptively pleasant smiles. “Detective Harris, is it? Richard Woolsey, attorney at law. You will cease interrogating my client immediately and release him into my custody.”

Harris said, “He killed four people with his bare hands.”

Woolsey reached into his pocket, drew out a folded piece of paper, and handed it to Harris. “The Governor takes rather vigorous exception when some well-known criminals assault a world-renowned war hero and the man who protects him is then treated like a common criminal.”

Harris unfolded the letter, scanned it. “How do I know this is real?”

Again with Woolsey and his pleasant smile. “Please, make all the verification phone calls you need. But first, uncuff Mr. Nealson.”

Harris fished in his pocket for his cellphone, flipped it open, dialed. He waited for a moment, then said, “Get me the lieutenant on duty.”

JD rattled his cuffs. “Rodney, John they won’t tell me what’s going on with Cam, Evan, and Tyler. It’s been four hours -”

Rodney turned, caught the nearest scrubs-clad person who was drifting past. “You  
need to get me information on Cameron Mitchell, Tyler Mitchell, and Evan Lorne. Immediately.”

The young woman blinked. “Who are you?”

“It’s a matter of national security,” Major Cartwright said.

The girl’s eyes went wide when she took in Cartwright’s uniform. “Okay. Right this way. Let me check.” She headed for a desk with a computer, and John, Rodney, and Cartwright followed.

“Yes, sir, but -” Harris was saying. He was turning a dull angry red. He snapped his fingers at one of the patrolmen, and after some fumbling with keys, a patrolman moved to unlock JD’s cuffs. JD hopped off the bed as soon as he as free, rubbing his chafed wrist against the soft fabric of his t-shirt.

Woolsey snagged a passing nurse. “His wrist was injured because the cuffs were too tight. See to him.”

JD was itching to go find Cam, but at Woolsey’s warning look he held his wrist out, let the nurse bandage his wrist where it had been scraped raw.

Harris sighed noisily, clearly frustrated. “Well then wake up the damn captain, because I am not gonna just let this kid walk. He killed four people with his bare hands -”

 _I’d do it again_ , JD thought. _I’d kill a hundred more punks just like them if it meant saving Cam, protecting Tyler_. He craned his neck to scan the ER, but John, Rodney, and Cartwright were gone. JD sank against the bed, suddenly exhausted, all the adrenaline draining out of him. He wanted to go home back to his house his room, his bed, where it was familiar, where his family was safe. This was the worst trip he’d been on. Hundreds of missions in the Gulf, through the gate, and the worst trip was on American soil, in America’s heartland.

JD buried his face in his hands.

The little punk in the next bed said, “Aw, is the little fairy gonna cry?”

“You’d best keep your mouth shut,” Woolsey said, voice calm and mild and almost friendly. “After what you did, you’re going to be lucky if you aren’t executed for treason, and after the criminal case is finished, you will be sued for civil damages, and you will lose so badly that your great-grandchildren will be paying the debt.”

JD lifted his head.

The punk looked unimpressed.

Harris snapped his phone shut, looking pale. “Let him go.”

Both of the uniformed officers took a step back, and JD straightened up, drew himself up to his full height. To Woolsey, he said, “Take me to my family.”

Woolsey nodded to the nurse who’d wrapped JD’s wrist and was filling out paperwork for the procedure, and said, “Please direct Mr. Nealson to Messrs. Mitchell and Lorne immediately.”

The nurse nodded, eyes still wide, and put a hand on JD’s arm. “This way, sir.”

She was afraid of him, he realized. He turned to Woolsey. “Listen, did any of you think to bring a -” He leaned in, lowered his voice. “A goa’uld healing device. I can use it, I can help Cam -”

“Go, Mr. Nealson, and let me do my work.”

The punk began to protest JD’s release, and Woolsey raised his voice.

JD followed the nurse out of the ER, through a pair of automatic doors, and down a linoleum and fluorescent-lit hallway to elevators. She paused at a desk and spoke softly to a nurse. Cam was in the ICU. Tyler was with him, having already been treated for his busted nose and black eye. Evan had been sedated and was locked down in the psych ward.

“Psych ward?” JD asked. “What happened?”

The nurse scanned the computer screen. “Looks like he had a violent PTSD flashback and assaulted a police officer. According to the report he was hysterical on the scene.”

Exhaustion settled into JD’s bones. He scrubbed a hand on his face. “Dammit. Can I see him? I’m one of his next of kin.”

The nurse peered at him. “Well -”

“I need to see Cam and Tyler and make sure they’re okay, but I need to see Evan, too.”

“Name?” the nurse asked.

“Jonathan Daniel Nealson. JD.”

The nurse clicked the mouse a few times. “Yes, you are listed as the next of kin. You can go in to see him, but only briefly. Show him up to the ICU, Hannah.”

Hannah nodded, and she led JD to the elevator. She tucked her hands into the pockets of her little scrub top - she was definitely nervous. JD was careful to give her personal space, having long ago been trained by Daniel about being nonthreatening with the offworld natives.

Hannah said, “Did you really kill those men?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“There were five men against a man in a wheelchair. They were killing him.”

“Couldn’t you have just - hurt them? Disabled them?”

“It doesn’t work like that in real life,” JD said. “Not like on TV, with fancy martial arts.”

“But if you’re trained -”

“What do you do when you’re driving and a ball rolls into the street and a kid chases after it?”

Hannah shrugged. “I brake.”

“You don’t think about it, do you? You brake. It’s a reflex.”

“I guess.”

“When you train your body for unarmed combat, you don’t have time to think. You react. It’s a reflex.” JD didn’t look at her. The elevator ride was taking forever.

“So you trained to kill people?”

“Only if they’re killing one of mine.”

“But they weren’t -”

“How would you know? You weren’t there.”

“But if they were just -”

“You’re a medical professional. You know all it can take is one lucky punch to the back of the head to give a man a concussion, kill him. You know that when someone is incapable of defending himself and he’s being attacked, it’s over.”

“But you killed four of them. There was only one of him.”

JD stared at her in disbelief. “Is everyone in this town insane? If I’m out on the street and you’re down on the ground and there’s five men attacking you, should I let them kill you to avoid the risk that I might kill them to save you?”

“Are you sorry?” Hannah asked.

JD scrubbed a hand over his face. Fucking teenage hormones. He was _not going to cry_. “Of course I’m sorry. I’m sorry we stopped in this godforsaken town. I’m sorry we stopped at that gas station. I’m sorry I had to take those lives. But I’m not sorry for loving my family, and I’m sure as hell not sorry for protecting them.”

Hannah said, “Shane was my boyfriend.”

“Shane?”

“You broke his neck.”

JD bit back his reflexive response, which was _he had it coming_.

Hannah began to cry. JD looked at her and didn’t know what to do.

The elevator doors slid open, and he said, “Go. I got it from here.” He stepped out, paused, turned. “I truly am sorry.”

Then he headed to the desk, asked for Cameron Mitchell’s room. The nurse pointed to a door down the hall and to the left. JD thanked her quietly and shuffled down the hall. He peered through the glass window at Cam, who was pale and small beneath machines and wires and tubes. Tyler was asleep in the chair beside the bed, his head pillowed on his arms, tucked against Cam’s hip.

Rodney, John, Cartwright, Vala, and a doctor in a white coat were standing beside the bed, reading Cam’s chart and talking softly.

John unfolded a hospital blanket, drew it around Tyler’s shoulders.

“I can’t consent to any kind of treatment to my patient that I don’t understand,” the doctor said. She was a young woman, golden-skinned, dark-haired.

Rodney said, in the same tone JD had heard him use on incompetent scientists in the middle of an emergency, “We don’t need _your_ consent to do the treatment. As long as his next of kin consents, we can do the treatment against medical advice.”

“Then I want to observe.”

“What part of _classified_ don’t you understand?” Rodney snapped.

John put a hand on his shoulder. “Rodney -”

“Dr. Lynn -” Cartwright began.

“Is this woman even a doctor?” Dr. Lynn flung a hand in Vala’s direction.

Vala didn’t offer up a flirty smile or witty comment for once, just lifted her chin and refused to back down.

“I can do it,” JD said.

Tyler stirred. He sat up, opened his eyes. “JD?”

JD crossed the room and knelt beside Tyler, pulled Tyler into his arms. Tyler buried his face against JD’s neck and sobbed wetly.

“I want to go home,” Tyler sniffled.

JD stroked his hair. “I know.”

“Can we go home?”

“John and Rodney can take you home,” JD said softly. “I’ll stay with Evan and Cammie. Grandma and Grandpa Mitchell should be on their way, if you want to stay with them.”

Tyler nodded.

“Can you do this?” Rodney asked.

JD nodded. “Dr. Lynn, is it? Please step out.”

“I’m doing this under protest,” Dr. Lynn said, but she did leave the room.

JD squeezed Tyler one more time, rose up, and closed the blinds. Vala reached into her purse and drew out a goa’uld healing device, handed it to him.

“Just because you have the gene doesn’t mean you can use that,” Rodney said.

“I’m an exact copy,” JD said. “Of General O’Neill. Up to and including all the modifications made to him, like the naquadah in his blood from when he was host to the Tok’ra Kanan.”

Rodney’s eyes went wide.

JD slid the device onto his hand and stretched it out, scanned Cam’s body. His heart crawled into his throat when he saw just how extensive his injuries were, but he closed his eyes and focused, directed the energy in the device to the worst of the injuries. The hum of the device was almost soothing.

A hand closed around his wrist, and he opened his eyes. Tyler was holding onto him, eyes wide.

“Will this fix him?”

“Some damage is beyond even a _tel’kesh_ ,” Vala said. “But it’s better than anything he could get on Earth.”

“By my calculations,” Rodney said, “we should be able to stabilize him enough to move him - either to Walter Reed or back to the Mountain.”

“The Mountain would be better.” JD took a deep breath. “Better medical tech.”

“How is it coming?” Vala asked. She was the only other person in the room who knew how the device worked.

“I’ve about topped myself out.” Using goa’uld tech for an extended period of time made him tired, unlike Ancient tech.

“Need me to take over?”

JD nodded. “Yeah. I need to go check on Evan.”

Tyler’s grip on his wrist tightened. “They wouldn’t let me go see him.”

“I promise I’ll send proof of life,” JD said. “But you need to stay here with Cam.”

Tyler bit his lip, ready to protest, but after a moment he nodded.

Vala held out a hand, and JD shut off the device, gave it to her.

“Should we let Dr. Lynn back in? To check him?” Tyler asked.

John glanced at Rodney who glanced at JD.

Cartwright bit her lip. “Think it’ll cause problems? With things being classified.”

“I’m not a doctor,” JD said. “I can’t say whether or not Cam is stable to be transferred. Dr. Lynn should definitely check him over.”

Vala activated the device.

“I’m going to see Evan.” JD leaned in, kissed Cam on the cheek, pressed a kiss to Tyler’s hair, and then ducked out of the room.

Dr. Lynn was standing there, consulting a tablet and fretting. She looked up as soon as JD stepped out. “Can I go in and see my patient?”

“They’re not quite finished with him, but hopefully when they are he’ll be stable enough to be moved.”

Dr. Lynn’s eyes went wide. “Be _moved?_ Are you insane?”

JD said, “I’m not insane. I’m just very, very tired. Earlier, some thugs assaulted my son and tried to kill his father, and I’ve spent several hours being denied information about how my family is doing and being treated like a common criminal. Everywhere I’ve turned I’ve been met with hostility and suspicion, and I’m done with all that. So Vala is going to stabilize Cam, and then we’re moving him somewhere we can be assured of his safety.”

Dr. Lynn looked affronted. “Mr. Mitchell will be perfectly safe here.”

“You’ll have to forgive me if I don’t feel like anywhere in this town is safe. Now, I have other family members I need to check on.” JD inclined his head politely, turned, and headed for the elevator. He could find the psych ward on his own.

He knew he was at the right place when he saw the smoky glass, the locked door, the buzzer, and the uniformed police officers outside. One was a blonde woman nursing a black eye with an ice pack, one was a brunette woman with a notebook, and the third was a yawning man.

“I’m not mad at him,” the blonde officer said. “It was a classic PTSD freakout. My dad served in Nam. I get it.”

“He hit you damn hard,” the brunette said. “And apparently he was talking crazy? About people trying to eat you, and gates.”

“Hallucinations don’t always make sense, and apparently he was involved in something super classified.” The man yawned again. “That one little lady lawyer and the psycho doctor came marching in here with their non-disclosure agreements and threats of treason, and it looks like our investigation into this thing is going to be all messed up by The Powers That Be. Like, some serious brass. Governor. Senator. I heard maybe even the President.”

The brunette shrugged. “I did Google the vic. They weren’t lying. Guy got a Medal of Honor. He was some kinda fancy combat pilot. Whatever it was for, it was classified.”

“Did you find anything on his friend? The one who, you know, went psycho ninja on the four dead kids.” The blonde sighed and lowered the ice pack, swiped condensation off her skin.

“According to Google, JD Nealson is a teacher’s aide at an alternative high school in Colorado Springs. He runs the school’s Astronomy Club and Chess Club. Pretty ordinary.”

“I looked at the video from the gas station security cam,” the man said. “Those moves were specials ops, for reals. Not fancy kung fu, not ninja karate. Just - fast. Brutal. He’s had some kind of military training.”

“Given all the brass hanging out in the ER, I wouldn’t be surprised,” the brunette said.

JD cleared his throat.

All three of them started violently, hands going for their weapons.

 _Still got it_ , JD thought, perversely. “Hey. Nurses said I could get in to see Evan Lorne.”

They stared at him, eyes wide, breathing hard.

JD tucked his hands into his pockets, assumed the pose that had earned him a thousand exasperated looks from Daniel and Sam over the years, the _Who? Me? Understand smart people things?_ “I’m his next of kin. One of them, at any rate. The others are down with Cam and Tyler.” He smiled.

They saw a kid - straight brown hair, brown eyes, thin lips, straight nose, lanky frame, narrow shoulders. They saw someone young and stupid.

And now they saw someone to be afraid of, someone violent.

The blonde recovered first. “Right. I understand he’s been sedated. Let me call the doctor -” She turned and hit the buzzer.

There was a hiss of static, and then a woman said, “This is Control.”

“Hey, Control, this is Officer Callahan. I have next of kin for Evan Lorne here to see him.”

“Be right there.”

A tired-looking woman in green scrubs and a white coat opened the door two minutes later. “Kin for Evan Lorne?”

“That’s me,” JD said.

“He’s asleep.” The woman - Dr. Zabriskie, according to her nametag - held the door open wider. “Make it quick.”

“Thank you,” JD said. He followed Zabriskie down a shadowed linoleum corridor lined with locked doors with tiny wired glass windows.

“You’re a lot less sassy than that physicist and fancy military lawyer.” Zabriskie was tall for a woman, glanced down at him.

“Rodney doesn’t take it well when people try to murder members of his family,” JD drawled.

“Those scars on Evan’s chest are unusual. Nothing in his medical history about it, though. Not animal or weapon or -”

“Classified.”

“I’m getting really sick of that word.”

“I’m sick of people trying to kill me and mine, so I guess we’re even.”

Zabriskie paused outside a door, swiped a keycard over the lock mechanism beside the doorknob, and opened the door.

Evan was sprawled across the bed, limbs akimbo. JD knew that sleep - it was the sleep of the heavily drugged. Evan hated it, but every now and again JD or Cam or John had to foist medicine on him so he’d sleep long enough to let himself get better.

“You have ten minutes,” Zabriskie said. “Starting now.” She nudged JD into the room and closed the door behind him.

JD toed off his shoes and climbed onto the cot. Evan stirred slightly, shifted so JD could snuggle in beside him, flung an arm around JD’s waist.

JD closed his eyes and nuzzled in close, inhaled the scent of Evan’s skin, and cried himself to sleep.


End file.
